


The Feast of Light

by SilentWonder



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cannibalism, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Consensual, Other, Surprise guest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentWonder/pseuds/SilentWonder
Summary: Bleiwys is a butcher in Ul'dah, serving a special product to Ul'dah's elite. She receives a request from Lolorito Nanarito to serve the most elite feast ever seen...
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

Bleiswys the Roegadyn, or the Butcher as most people knew her, found herself standing in a small room in Lolorito Nanarito’s mansion. It was obviously meant for small, intimate meetings, but every ilm of the place was luxuriously, even gauchely, furnished. She felt a slight sense of unease. Most people would simply send a servant to deliver an order to the shop, or to commission her services for private parties. To be summoned to arrive at the back door of a mansion in the wee hours of the morning — when the streets were empty and most of the staff was asleep — was not normally how she did business. But one did not simply ignore a request from one of Ul’dah’s wealthy and elite. And as someone in her line of work, it behooved her to remain in the good graces of those who patronized her more…selective offerings.

“Greetings! Oh, do sit down.” The short Lalafell walked into the room. “No need to be uncomfortable. Do you drink wine?” He gestured towards the small table between the two chairs, where a dusty old bottle with two pristine wine glasses sat.”Pre-Calamity vintage from Wineport. Impossible to find these days.”

Bleiwys gave a small shake of her head, and sat down.The seat, while slightly too big for a Lalafell, was definitely too small for her. She could feel the armrests digging into her thighs. She attempted to not show her discomfort, although Lolorito was probably quite aware of it. The man was not the sort to let any detail slip by.

“Oh, sorry about the chair. It’s the largest chair we have on hand.” He flashed a dazzling smile. He swished his wine, and took a sniff. “Sure it’s a no to the wine? Excellent vintage. Very well.” He leaned forward. “I have a special request.”

Bleiwys nodded. She had handled many special requests in her time. She wondered how this one would be different — or even if it would be. All the wealthy and elite thought they were so unique and different, but ultimately ended up requesting the same things.

“I am looking to host a feast for certain members of Ul’dah society. I remember you from Teledji Adeledji’s last feast — from before all the trouble occurred. You take pride in your work, yes?”

She nodded, then realized she should probably actually say something. “Yes, sir.”

“Everyone agreed it was the most beautiful roast any of us had tasted. That glaze — how did you even do it? I can nearly taste it just thinking about it. You must pass it along to my cooks.”

“No, sir. Tool of the trade, sir. Would be a direct threat to my livelihood, sir.”

Lolorito sighed. “I expected as much. Now. This feast of mine. I would like a live spit roast.”

She nodded. “A common request, sir.”

“And I want a certain…meat.”

“You are aware that, the greater risk of procurement, the greater the gil required. I will not do certain procurements if I deem the risk is too great.”

“Oh, I know. I plan to make you the richest butcher in Ul’dah if you procure the meat I request, and prepare it in the manner I requested. At my feast in front of all my guests.”

“Your request, sir?”

“But it must be brought to me alive and whole. Do you understand me? Otherwise, you will find Ul’dah very…uncomfortable for one in your profession.”

She waited, silently. Veiled threats were nothing new. She wasn’t worried. She was good at what she did.

“I want the Warrior of Light.”

“Sir?” Well this _was_ different.

Lolorito leaned back, apparently more relaxed now that he had made his request. “I want to see the Warrior of Light. With a spit through her. Turning over my firepit. I want to sink my teeth into her cooked flesh. Taste her on my tongue.”

“Sir, I must warn you, sir—”

“I am willing to pay any price.”

“It’s not that, sir.”

“Oh?”

“She’s been an adventurer for many years, sir. And she’s older than ideal. Her meat is bound to be tougher than that of my usual offerings. And it’s possible some of her experiences may have rendered her flesh…inedible. She has done many things, from the stories. If it’s a Scion you want, may I suggest the twins. They are reaching prime harvesting age and their meat is more likely to be tender and succulent— ”

“That’s just it though.” Lolorito got a far away look in his eye. “She’s slayed primals. Been to another world. Is loved and liked in all the land. I want to take all of that—” he gestured with his hands, “and see her, her life, her experiences, her future, reduced to a juicy morsel on my plate. And I want her to know, in that moment, I am more powerful than her.”

She shrugged. The wealthy and elite seemed unable to tolerate the existence of power that wasn’t theirs. But a thought crossed her mind.

“Don’t you think removing someone widely known as the protector of the realm is a good idea? It’s not like the problems facing Eorzea — primals, Garlemald — will vanish when she does.”

Lolorito looked at her, frowning. “You’re political? Know what’s good for the realm, do you?”

She shrunk back, as far back as the tiny chair would allow. “No sir. I was merely wondering, sir.” Her mind was already moving ahead to the task ahead.

“She’s done her service to the realm. And I intend her final service to be at my table. Now, do you accept my offer?”

She came out of her thoughts. “Yes, sir. It was never a question, sir.”

Lolorito stretched out a hand. She took it in hers, her huge Roegadyn hand dwarfing his. They shook.

“ _Now_ will you try some of the wine?”


	2. Chapter 2

The Butcher went to bed in the early morning hours, but she did not spend this time sleeping.

The Warrior of Light! She wondered if she had made the right choice in accepting the job. Too late now; besides, she could hardly turn down the biggest challenge ever encountered. To serve such a glorious creature would be the biggest achievement of her career…But first she would have to procure her.

She hadn’t been asked to prepare such an august personage before. Often, her customers left the choice of meat up to her. Living in Ul’dah with its refugee population, it was easy enough for Bleiswys to go to the underground slave markets, which, while their existence was decried and penalized, still existed; after all, what someone will buy, someone will sell.

W hen it came to the Warrior of Light, Bleiswys knew any plan had to work right the first time. The Warrior of Light had been in and out of many situations, and would doubtlessly sense things not being right. And Bleiswys had no desire to find out firsthand what the Warrior of Light did to those who tried to harm them.

To this end, she called upon an arcanist she knew. She had utilized his services before, and intended to rely on certain of his talents throughout this process.

“Hmm,” said the wizard. “So. You want to capture the Warrior of Light…alive? And then keep her alive…until the cookout?”

She nodded.

“Are you insane? It’s going to be hard to capture her—and keep her captured—long enough to move her, let alone subject her to a live roasting process! You’d better be getting the keys to the sultanate or the madhouse for doing this!”

“There’s gil in it for you.”

“How _much_ gil?”

She told him.

He whistled. “With that sort of money I could go set up a practice in Kugane or some other place far away from this stinking desert. Let me think on it.”

They formulated a plan; several, in fact. They decided it was too much risk to capture the Warrior of Light outside Ul’dah. There was no date set for the feast; she would notify Lolorito that they had the meat requested and the feast would happen after that.

They needed a way to separate the Warrior of Light from any traveling companions she might have; and lure her to someplace sight unseen. Difficult, since everyone knew what the Warrior of Light looked like and she tended to generate a buzz wherever she went.

It would have to be a surprise attack. Their only advantage was that the Warrior of Light didn’t know them, or their plan, advantages that would be lost forever if they failed.

If they failed, Bleiswys intended to flee Ul’dah, both to escape from the Warrior of Light and Lolorito.It was possible, though, that there was no place far enough on this star she could escape to, and she would much rather not.

She secured the services of several Roegadyn ahead of time. The Warrior of Light was a Miquot’e, and a size advantage could possibly be useful. They were mercenaries, and were used to fighting dirty.

It had been five weeks since Bleiswys met Lolorito when she received the news the Warrior of Light would be in Ul’dah.

The wheels began to turn.

The Warrior of Light walked into Ul’dah by one of it’s lesser known gates. Night had already fallen, so there would be fewer people around. Normally, she enjoyed the acclamation, but right now she was simply tired and wanted to sleep in a bed at the Adventurer’s Guild. She nodded to the guard as she passed.

Between the gate and the Adventurer’s Guild she was passing by an alley when she heard a sobbing child.As tired as she was, she couldn’t ignore someone, especially a child, in distress. She sighed and turned down the alley.

An urchin, grubby and ragged, was leaning against the partially opened door of what looked like a warehouse, crying its heart out. She approached and crouched down.

“What’s wrong, child? I’m the Warrior of Light. Maybe I can help.”

The child looked wildly over her shoulder. She turned just in time to see a huge, meaty hand coming at her face.

She pulled out her weapon and slashed at it with lightning reflexes, but then other hands reached from the empty door and pulled her inside. She tripped over the threshold but sprung back up with cat-like graces, whirling to meet her assailants.

There was three of them, she could tell in the darkness. Two large ones and a smaller one behind them, possibly a wizard. She could recognize the crackling of magic anywhere. Setting her target on the mage, she sprinted towards him, planning to duck under the meaty arms of the two Roes and run the wizard through. She didn’t bother with silly questions, like “Who are you?” and “What the blazes do you think you’re doing?”

A flashbang went off at her feet, making her lose a step and tumble to the ground. Large hands clamped over her body, and a soaked rag was shoved into her face. Some alchemical concoction, she though as she struggled with consciousness.

When she woke up, everyone was going to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a fan of this transition chapter, but if I don't put stuff out because it's not perfect, I'll never put anything out.


	3. Chapter 3

The Warrior of Light blearily struggled to consciousness. She could hear talking. At least one voice was familiar, but she couldn’t be sure.

Why was she here? What was this strange pressure in her skull? What was this breeze?

She squinted.

She could see several figures — a tall, green-skin Roedaygon. A red-skinned Au’ra. An elezen in a wizard hat. They were talking to someone in front of them. Much shorter.

She realized they were all upside down.

No,  _she_ was upside down. 

And naked.

Where were her clothes?

Why was she upside down?

Through a haze she saw the Elezen gesture at her. The three — no four — figures walked over to her.

“Sleep spell is wearing off. How long until we start?” The Elezen was nervous, and deservedly so. She couldn’t wait to crush his scrawny windpipe. Sleep spells! So basic.

“Welcome, my dear Warrior of Light.” She stiffened. It was a very familiar voice.

“Lolorito?” She gasped, and proceeded to pull against the ropes holding her up. She bristled as she summoned her composure. “I can’t say I’m surprised you’re behind this. I’m going to twist your bloody head off and—”

“You will do nothing, Dear.” He leered at her, his tiny Lalafellian face about level with her face. “I’ve waited for this day for a long time. Now,” he turned sharply on his heel, “You will learn the consequences of being too good for your own good.”

“Try me.” She struggled harder.

“Oh dear. I’m shaking in my boots. What will the big bad Warrior of Light do to me?”

“We should really do that sleep spell if we’re not starting now,” said the wizard, nervously.

“Don’t worry,” said Lolorito, He lifted a hand. “Let them in please.”

The double doors swung wide, and people came walking in. She recognized some of them. Ul’dah’s elite and moneyed. Dressed in their finest, laughing, talking jovially. She gasped.

There were cries of “Bravo!” and clapping and number of people began to lick their lips. In that moment she hated everyone one of them. Lolorito turned towards her again.

“You see, Warrior of Light, we have a grand night in store. You will be the centerpiece of our evening.You will know,” he continued to the snickering behind him, “just how much the moneyed elite of Ul’dah appreciate your service.” He nodded to the three figures standing there. “May I introduce Bleiwys, the Butcher as many of you know her as; her lovely assistant, the Au’ra Getu, and of course, our resident arcanist, Alcred Sadler!”

Bleiwys and Getu bowed deeply, with Alcred bowing a moment later, as if flustered.

The Warrior of Light kept pulling on her binding. If she could pull hard enough…she was quite sure any residual fatigue from the sleep spell was wearing off.

Lolorito kept speaking. “If our fine guests would care to find seats around the courtyard, we will begin serving refreshments shortly.” He turned to the Roedaygon he had called the Butcher. “Feel free to begin. We all want to watch what the Warrior of Light becomes.”

The Roedaygon woman nodded. The Elezen held his hands apart and started focusing on her. A white light glowed.

“Let me down!”

“So,” said Lolorito to the Butcher, ignoring her. “Just how do you intend to keep her alive throughout the process?”

The Butcher gestured to the arcanist. “What he is doing now is casting a binding spell,” The Butcher said, almost as if the Warrior of Light had no more input into the process. “It binds a living being’s aether to their body for up to a day or until their bodily integrity is sufficiently compromised. This will enable the meat to survive the entire butchering and cooking process with their mind intact.”

“I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You. All.” The strap was close to breaking, she could feel it--

“Oh? Will she be able to speak the entire time?”

“No.”

“Then, pray tell, how can you know?”

“Her eyes.” The Roedaygon knelt down and grabbed her by her hair. She pointed at her face. “See her eyes? They will remain clear and may even move a little until the spell is compromised.”

“Very well.” Lolorito’s smile got even wider. “I look forward to seeing how she progresses.” He turned to towards his guests.

The strap was about to give way--

The white ball the arcanist was generating flowed out and settled over the Warrior of Light, disappearing below her skin, distracting her. She blanked out for a moment.

“Now,” the Butcher said conversationally as she continued holding the Warrior of Light’s head in a firm grip, “normally we wouldn’t need to use any spells. Forcing the aether to remain bound to the body throughout this process can result in certain hormones to be released into the meat, causing a gamier taste. Knife, please, Getu.” The Au’ra appeared on the other side of her, handing the Butcher a knife. “However, at events like this, we do our best to accommodate the requests of our guests.”

“Let me go!” The Warrior had regained her wits. However, the Roedaygon’s hand might as well have been a vice. The Warrior frantically tried pulling on the straps again. “You can’t do this! Don’t you know who I am?” She felt embarrassed to say it, but she was growing desperate.

With a slight wrist movement, the Butcher twister her head so her neck was more exposed. The Warrior was very, very acutely aware of the knife, held in the Butcher’s other hand.

“You’re not a monster! You can’t be! Let me go and I’ll see you face no repercussions!” Actually, she was keen to slaughter them all, but she wasn’t going to say that yet.

The Butcher leaned closer, acknowledging her voice for the first time, and whispered, “We both know that’s not true.” The Butcher’s voice went back to a conversational tone. “It is important to note that the meat will often make threats. Pleas. Offer money. However—”

“The customer comes first,” said Getu, dully, as if he had heard this many times before.

“What do you mean, meat!” The Warrior of Light shrieked.

“Now,” said the Butcher, “at events like these, presentation is important. Alcred, stand by, in case she pulls on that strap much more. Getu, please secure her body. She’s thrashing a little too much.”

She felt the warmth of the Au’ra as he stood behind her and wrapped both arms around her naked flesh. She still struggled, but her movement was more limited.

“As I was saying, presentation is important. Which is why—” The Warrior flinched as the blade approached her neck “we’re going to simply slit this artery, rather than cutting from ear to ear.” The Butcher set a pail below the Warrior’s head. “Can you see from up there, Getu? I think you’ve seen this technique before.”

“Yes, Bleiwys, I can see fine.”

The Warrior gasped as the blade slid in, almost painlessly, but then she felt warm liquid flowing down the side of her neck, over her ear, and through her hair.

“Then we do the other side, for a faster bleed.”

The Warrior felt lightheaded as blood flowed down her head and poured into the bucket below. This was really happening! She must—she must—

“You can let her go. The thrashing will help the blood drain.” The Warrior was aware of the Butcher and her assistant standing in front of her now, but she couldn’t see as blood flowed into her eyes. Her limbs were growing weaker. So weak. The Scions—someone would come to save her. They had to!

The Butcher knelt by her head. When the bleeding finally slowed, the Butcher wiped away the blood from the Warrior’s eyes. The Warrior stared at her, then looked down—or up— to see the bucket of blood below her head.

Was that really all her blood?

“Just so you know,” the Butcher said, and the Warrior realized she was addressing her, “no one was expecting you in Ul’dah until today. They’ll merely think something hindered you on your journey. By the time anyone thinks to raise the alarm—” the Butcher stood up, “there will be nothing of you to find. Not physically, not magically, not psychically.”

“Why…why?” The Warrior weakly gasped, feeling a fresh trickle of blood over her lips.

“Why did I tell you that?” The Butcher shook her head. “So you stop holding onto hope. Everything about this process will be easier for you if you just surrender to what is happening. If you’re asking why I’m bleeding you out like a damn sow and turning you into meat, well, money.”

“Money? Just for…money?”

“Nothing against you, kid. But I’m good at what I do, and the price of being good at what I do is that I must continue being good at what I do. And the gil is very, very good. I would slaughter this entire city for the amount of gil I’m getting for you.”

Her limbs were so weak. She could barely affect a tremor. She was hanging, just hanging.

“Hope…” the Warrior whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

“All right, I know you’ve seen me do this process many times. Gutting a live carcass is just like gutting a dead one, just with possible squirming, so careful you don’t nick anything.” Large hands clamped on the Warrior’s sides. “Don’t be afraid to go slow, but be sure and precise.”

The Warrior could see the Au’ra’s shapely red legs in front of her. She strained her weak neck muscles to look up. Over the bulge of his pants she noticed he was now shirtless. He could have been attractive, if he wasn’t currently holding a knife over her slender belly. She saw the Butcher’s face looking down at her from over her crotch. She must be standing behind me, holding me steady, the Warrior thought.

The knife touched just above her pubic region, and she flinched. Or what felt like a flinch, but completely failed to affect the grip of the Roedaygon. The Warrior felt the knife pull downwards in a smooth straight line, stopping only when it hit her breastbone.

This was really happening, the Warrior thought dully.

No! This can’t happen! I’ve slain primals! Walked on another world! I’ve seen Hydalaen herself! She wouldn’t let me die here, would She? Bled and gutted and turned into meat for evil grinning Lalafells! I’m going to kill Lolorito! Surely Krile will see the Echo — or something — they’re going to find me —

A burning spread through her torso, and a wall of intestines fell past her face, plopping wetly into the bucket of blood. A larger, round thing fell in after, and the Warrior realized, with horror, that that was her stomach.

The Butcher was in front of her again, and if she strained she could look up just enough to see her hands reaching into her body cavity, which was so small by comparison.

“Now, what you need to do is make sure that the intestine is empty where you cut it — don’t want any fecal matter entering the cavity. Got the platter ready? We’re going to save some of these organ meats for appetizers.”

The Warrior tried to struggle, cry in vain, as she felt the Butcher rooting around in side her. Plucking and pain as her organs were pulled out — kidneys, ovaries, liver, lungs.

Heart.

A sense of despair washed over the Warrior of Light. She was well, and truly gutted. Even if the Scions found her, would anyone be able to heal her in time? She’d never heard or seen someone recover from losing all of their insides.

Her heart sat on a platter, oozing blood.

This was it. This was the end.

Vengeance. Vengeance was the only thing she had hope for now.

“Now let’s get her over to the table and shave her down. While we normally just skin Miquot’es and avoid the whole hair problem altogether, the skin is necessary to hold the juices in while roasting.” The Warrior didn’t look up, but she still saw red hands reaching down and undoing the straps on her hands. They trailed limply on the floor, without energy.

Then her body was swung up and she found herself viewing the green face of the Roedaygon.

She tried to move her lips. Why? Beg? Plead? Ask for a quick death? Her body was laid out on a table.

She would have marveled at the speed at which the Butcher and her assistant shaved her down, if only she wasn’t gutted and reduced to so much carcass for preparation. Foam and blades were applied to her skin, giving an exfoliating sensation. It had been too long since she’ been to Bronze Lake.

She’d never go to Bronze Lake again. A heave got caught in her chest, unable to escape.

The Butcher wouldn’t stop talking.

“I like leaving the hair on the head for presentation purposes.” The Au’ra sighed. “And I’m going to keep saying it. For events like these, presentation is 75% of the flavor. These people will happily chew down gamey tough meat provided it looks pleasing.”

“What about the tail?” the Au’ra asked, gruffly, as the Warrior’s body was flipped over to expose her ass cheeks. “Should we just lop it off?”

“Presentation, Getu, presentation. What we’re going to do is roll it up and put it in a heat proof bag. This will ensure it remains nice and fluffy for presentation. Now, fetch the water while I clean her hair.”

The feeling of the Roedaygon’s fingers on her scalp made the Warrior shudder, a real shudder that even the Roedaygon noticed.

“Still got a bit of a spark in you, I see.” Wet rags went all over her body — between her ass cheeks, on her back, around her neck, her legs — her head was plunged into a bucket and the soap rinsed out — then she was rolled over.

The Au’ra promptly went to work wiping down her legs, while the Roedaygon wiped her face, her chin, even dug a little into her eye sockets, her neck, her shoulders. The Butcher hesitated at her breasts.

“Not very large. Now, while we’d normally cut these off as they’re just fat, again, they’re—”

“Part of the presentation.”

“Yes. They will shrink during the cooking process. The fat will melt and distribute over the rest of her torso. It’s why the ribs are often the most tender.” The Warrior could feel the Butcher’s fingers moving softly over her nipples. To her horror, they hardened at the Roedaygon’s touch. Then they were wiped, swiftly but not roughly, and the wiping continued down her torso.

Again, to her horror, she felt a finger inserted into her crotch.

“Bit small, but we shouldn’t have any problems shoving a pole through there. Here. Feel it. Knowing how it’s shaped will help with guiding it.”

More fingers were pushed in. She could feel them holding the lips apart, looking into her most sacred of holes. Her intimacy. And here they were just prodding it like a slab of beef. She wished Hydalaen, the Twelve, even any number of Primals she vanquished to come rain fury down on these violators.

“One more thing, and she’ll be ready for spitting.”

The Warrior felt a hand up side her chest cavity. She wanted to choke as she felt a finger hooked around something. Then something began to pull.

Her  _tongue_ ! They were pulling out her fucking tongue out of her throat!

She felt it flick out of her throat. She felt the pain of a slow rip.

“Put it with the other sweetmeats. All right, since this one is so important, I’m going to place the rod. But watch my technique.”

The Warrior wanted to gasp as something cold, metallic, and slippery slipped between her legs.

“Be sure to keep the rod greased up, it will help it slide through. In fact—” the Warrior felt the rod retreat, then grow, then retreat, then grow. “You can help the passage by getting the meat to help lube it.”

“Is she really—?”

“Check.”

Fingers slipped inside her again. “Wow. Is she actually turned on, or—”

“It’s probably a response to stimuli. But really, why not give a girl once last ride before she goes out? It’s not like she has anything else to look forward to.”

The Warrior’s face would have grown red if she had any blood left. Her vaginal muscles convulsed to the stimuli. Until suddenly the Butcher shoved it forward abruptly, and the Warrior felt the rod flowing through her canal to…somewhere.

“Now you can reach inside and pull while you push.” A hand brushed the flaps of her belly. “This helps you guide — can you tilt her head back? Her throat and mouth need to be in a straight line.”

The Warrior’s eyes were treated to a naked red chest once again, as her chin was tilted up and her head pulled back. “Now we removed the tongue so we don’t have to fight with it—you see the rod yet? Okay, grasp it and help pull.”

The Warrior’s eyes would have widened as a blood streaked pole erupted from her mouth, and kept growing. She could feel the pole moving through her vaginal cavity, her throat, and bumping against her inner spine.

Imagine if the Scions came now. Or Aymeric. Or Raubahn. They would find her here, on a spit. An empty carcass. Meat for a feast. So fell the great hero of Eorzea. As food.

She felt something being shoved inside her cavity.

“Don’t pack the stuffing too tightly. We don’t want her belly to distend. Ruins the presentation, makes the carcass look pregnant. Now sew her up while I stuff her holes.”

My holes, thought the Warrior. They’re getting stuffed. Will it feel good? Will it—ow, that was something in the asshole. She was literally having something hard shoved in her asshole. Between that and the rod, she was feeling some sensation of pleasure, but also of feeling stuffed.

The Roedaygon appeared at the head of the pole, holding an apple with the center cut out.

The Warrior could do nothing but watch as the apple was threaded onto the pole and shoved down to her face. The Butcher popped her jaw open and shoved the apple in there. Her lips were tight over the red roundness of the apple. She no longer even had a tongue to taste it.

“Flip her over.” The Warrior stared straight ahead, no longer upside down, and watched as the Butcher brought her hands together to the pole. She was unrolling some wire.

“Just above the knee and the ankle,” she said as she secured the Warrior’s wrists and then elbows to the spit. “Do it securely. Have a limb come loose is unprofessional.Now just let me get the heat-resistant cap over her hairline and ears and we’ll be ready to get this meat roasting.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dead meat, thought the Warrior of Light as the rod — with her body inertly on it — was lifted off the table. She could do nothing but view the back of the Butcher ahead of her. The Butcher, who carried her end of the rod over one shoulder as if she was a lamb or a wee suckling pig. A sweat covered the Butcher, making her skin appear shiny. The Butcher, whose hands had been inside her. Who had rammed a rod through her carcass. Who had slit—

No! Don’t think about that! She could still be rescued. Well, perhaps not rescued, but at least time to say good-bye to those she loved and cared about. She could picture their faces. The twins, crying, Would Thancred cry? No, he’d probably put on a stiff upper lip for her sake. Aymeric would definitely cry. She could envision herself, perhaps in a bed, surrounded by those who loved her and would honor her.

There was a bump, and the Warrior was jolted back to reality. She was not dying surrounded by friends, she was dying surrounded by cannibals. Would she feel their mouths as they tore at her flesh? Feel the parts being cut off?

When would she  _die?_ She wondered as she watched the Butcher setting the rod into some contraption. She realized what it was after the Butcher inserted a handle into it and gave it a turn, as her world suddenly spun around and left her upside down again. The Butcher seemed satisfied with her work, and she disappeared to the side as the Au’ra stepped up.

Already, she could feel heat on her back. Not too unpleasant, she thought as she stared at a clear, darkening sky. She must be four feet or so above the fire at the moment. It felt like a warm day in Costa del Sol at the moment.

She jumped as something cold touched her breasts.

“Oh? What’s in the marinade?” the reedy voice of Lolorito reached her ears, but she couldn’t see him.

“Rest assured, it has been prepared special for this roast,” she heard the Butcher saying. “Trade secrets, but I _will_ tell you it has a hint of rosemary in it.” The Warrior of Light could feel the coolness being brushed down her torso, with a quick, ticklish jab between the legs. 

“I never thought she would look so lovely this way,” Lolorito said.

“She will look better when she’s done, I assure you.” The brushing continued down her legs. Then suddenly, the Au’ra gave the handle a half-spin and her breasts hung down, feeling the warmth from below on them. She shuddered as the cool stickiness was brushed across her back, with seemingly too much care paid to her butt cheeks.

“She moved, there.”

“Oh, she’s in there. Feeling everything, as you requested.”

“Can I give it a spin?”

“You’re the customer.” The Au’ra stepped aside, and she found herself face to face with Lolorito for the first time since she’d been hanging upside down. The crank did not appear too hard for the grinning Lalafel to turn, doubtless due to the number of gears or something in the contraption. Cid would know.

Cid—

“Well,” said Lolorito, conversationally, as if they were sitting across from each other in the Adventurer’s Guild, “could you have imagined it all coming down to this? No need to respond, of course you couldn’t.”

“Mmph!” She was surprised she was capable of making a noise; she could feel the pipe reverberate through her body.

“Why? Well, I won’t denied you annoyed me somewhat. O don’t your eyes look angry. I’m sure you regret not skewering me when you had the chance. Lalafells, you know, they have a certain buttery quality to them. Would have been a waste. But really, I just want to taste the Hero of the Realm. There’s something special about eating something that was once sentient, you know? Someone. Well, you are the greatest someone I’ve a chance to know, and you’d better believe I am going to relish every moment my teeth sink into your flesh. I wonder if you will feel it?”

“Mmph mmph!”

“Ooo, Lolorito! May I give it a spin?” A female lala was now standing next to Lolorito. “Do you think she gets dizzy, spinning around like that?”

It was a good hour before all the party guests who wanted had given the Warrior of Light a spin or two on the spit. In that time, her skin grew uncomfortably warm, only relieved periodically with the Butcher brushing more marinade over her. It grew from mere warmth, to feeling like a bad sunburn. All the time, her world going from upside down to upside right to upside down again. The Au’ra took over the crank when the party guests grew tired of the pastime, and she was left looking at his red skin and manly physique.

Towards the end of the second hour, her skin was aching, even after the marinade brushing. With some commands from the Butcher, the spit was lowered to a lower level over the coals, and she started to feel the fire really penetrate her. The pole, which had been warming, accelerated it’s heating. She felt it growing, explosively, down her tongue-stripped throat and up through her vagina. For a brief moment it felt like a hot cock and a hot drink at the same time. Then her inner flesh started to sear, and she found out she could still struggle.

By the end of third hour, she was hot all over. Her skin was dry and cracking. She was no longer feeling it, and she realized the nerves must be dead in her cooked flesh. Her throat and vagina were seared, fire from the pipe, and she was dully aware of their sensation. A smell of roasting meat and rosemary filled her nostrils.

Her.

There wasn’t any hope, not even seeing her friends, she thought as she watched the Au’ra turn the spit with machine-like efficiency. It was just was well; if the smell of her roasting flesh was anything to go by, perhaps they wouldn’t bother resisting filling up on her flesh. Imagining her friends, slicing into her, putting pieces of her roasted flesh into their mouths —

Well, better than being consumed by the Monetarists, she supposed. At least her friends might truly appreciate this unwilling sacrifice.

Six hours after first being placed on the spit, she was removed from the coals, She had long ago lost most sensation, while still retaining the ability to smell, hear and see. She could hear clapping as she was carried from the courtyard to an inner kitchen, and set down on an island, stiff and unable to move.

She could still feel the pole as it was slid out through her crispy carcass, the Roedaygon’s hands holding down her body while the pole slid through her mouth.

Due to the position of her head while upside down, she didn’t see the cleaver until it had cleaved through her neck, and she found herself lifted by her head and set on a platter. The Butcher fussed over her, brushing her hair and placing a fresh red apple between her dry, dessicated cheeks.

Then a cover was set over it, and she was in the dark.

Then she was carried and set somewhere.

She could her sounds. Grunting. Voices. Then the cover was removed, and she saw a larger cover being lifted from a much larger platter.

It took her a moment to recognize her body. It had been positioned, almost sensually, on it’s side, with the upper leg crossing the lower leg and one arm bent, with a hand supporting the neck. A neck with no head.

She did look beautiful, she realized. Her  _meat_ looked beautiful. 

Lolorito stood up, holding a carving knife. The room fell quiet.

“As we all know,” he said, staring straight at her with a smile, “ our very honorable guest—”

Snickering burst out.

“—is the esteemed Warrior of Light. We know what she’s done for the realm, so no point in recounting any of it!” Laughter. “Now, I would like to, at the very least, thank her for her service at this table!” He raised a wineglass in the direction of her head. “May she nourish our bodies and warm our bellies, and meddle with our affairs for the last time!”

“Cheers!” “Cheers!” “Cheers!”

Then, staring into her eyes, he sliced into her cooked rump.

Her mouth would have watered, if it could. Steam escaped, and the first slice of ass looked juicy. The smell was heavenly. More meat was sliced away from her rump and served to hungry guests, who dug in with their fingers, forgoing implements in favor of eating with their fingers directly. The meat’s juices — her juices — flowed over fingers and was hungrily licked off. When the ass had been distributed, her body was rolled over, and the knife began taking slices from her inner thighs. Lolorito stuck his finger up between them.

“She’s still warm!” This lead to a round of obnoxious laughter.

The Warrior of Light could do nothing as she watched meat sliced off her bones; watched toes and fingers broken off and sucked clean of their meat and juices; watched as the stitching was torn open and stuffing removed from her belly, like being disembowled a second time. Her nipples were sliced off and sucked by Lolorito, who declared them “chewy.” As time went by, and all that was left of her body — her pride, her ability, what she had done for not one world, but two — was a rapidly ravaged pile of bones, torn apart as if by wild beasts. Bones carelessly scattered around the table as greedy fingers dug through the carcass in search of any remaining meat.

Eventually, bellies full, the diners began to file out, and the Butcher and her assistant returned, to collect the bones and grind them, to spread in Lolorito’s flowerbeds.

It was just her head and Lolorito now, in an empty dining hall.

“You were delicious, my dear. However, there is one more guest that needs to eat.” He raised his voice. “You don’t have to lurk in the shadows, you know.”

From behind the curtains at one side, a white robed person stepped forth.

Eldibus!

“I thought you might be here.” Lolorito gestured for the Ascian to sit at the table in front of the head. “I know you’ve had plenty of struggles with the Warrior of Light. How does it feel, to see her before you now, in this manner?”

“I did not expect her to be taken down this way,” Eldibus said. “To think — all the time we spent — and she gets taken down by a hungry Lalafell.”

“I hope that’s not too embarrassing for you,” said Lolorito. “She’s still in there, you know. You should drop in for a chat.”

“I’d rather not,” said Eldibus stiffly. “I would like a taste of her flesh, however.”

Lolorito laid some cutlery by his plate. “By all means. I saved the most esteemed piece for you, my friend.”

She heard a sawing noise, and then saw a curved piece, covered in hair, laid in front of her. Her head! They must have sawed open her skull!

Eldibus reached over, and with a plop sound, lifted out her brain and set it on a plate in front of her.

Lolorito handed Eldibus a fork. “With this, you will consume the last of the Warrior of Light. She will be unable to trouble you any more.”

Eldibus lifted up the fork. “I will remember this, Lolorito.” He plunged it into her brain, which quivered at the sudden assault.

The world began to fade, for the Warrior of Light. Her last vision was her brain on Eldibus’s plate, with him slicing off pieces.

And Lolorito’s damnable smile.


End file.
